


XII: The Hanged Man

by monodramatic



Series: 3H Tarot Prompts [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, and somehow its the longest thing ive ever written, ive never written anything remotely like this before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monodramatic/pseuds/monodramatic
Summary: Rumors spread like weeds. No matter how sheltered he had been, Lorenz has always known that.
Series: 3H Tarot Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620109
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	XII: The Hanged Man

Rumors spread like weeds. No matter how sheltered he had been, Lorenz has always known that. It was imperative that nobody could find out, but with letters constantly sent back and forth between Gloucester Territory and Derdriu, it was only a matter of time before someone learned the truth.

He had spent the better part of 5 years trying to decide what to do. He could keep the life built for him if he aligned with the Empire like his father, or he could follow his heart into almost certain disaster. He felt like there were strings on him, pulling him equally hard in both directions. He came to the realization that he had to decide before he would split down the middle.

Getting the word across to the Alliance wasn’t easy. Trade routes between the capital and Gloucester Territory had been frozen, and the borders heavily patrolled. Nobody was going in or out without a very good reason. Lorenz was relying almost entirely on a maid who had been evicted nearly a year ago for defying the Empire where Duke Gloucester could hear.

He couldn’t be seen with her often. It was dangerous to be seen together at all. Letters were penned, sealed, traded, and sent back and forth by bird - all in secret. Reading Claude’s words written in his messy scrawl had him sure he had made the right decision. He felt almost free. Almost.

The Millennium Festival would be upon them soon, and Lorenz had marked that to be the occasion for his escape. Only a couple weeks left. All that was left to do was wait. He couldn’t help but feel skittish as the day got nearer and nearer. He’s always had a problem with overthinking things, and such a monumental decision would be no different. The recent unrest within the Manor hadn’t been helping any.

Lorenz had been on his way to his father’s library when everything was broken apart. He hadn’t even heard the footsteps on the cobblestone. Something had hit him hard on the side of the neck, sending him falling forward and casting his lantern into the hall in front of him. He tries to scramble to his feet but a boot keeps him firmly pressed to the cold floor. 

It pushes harder, harder, until he feels something inside him crack. The corridor has gone dark, save the lantern in front of him, still too far to reach. Someone must have snuffed the sconces. This means his assailant isn’t alone. This is confirmed when he reaches for the dagger on his hip - not that he’s convinced it’ll be particularly useful - and a hand pins his arm behind his back, pressing even more on his cracked rib, bringing the other to join shortly after. He gasps in a breath when the boot leaves his back and it hurts so horribly.

Then comes the blow to his other side. The same boot from before digs harshly into his waist, sure to paint him purple and blue by morning. He tries to kick, tries so hard, but his feet only connect with the air and the floor. Someone laughs teasingly behind it, an older man by the sound of it, as the man pressing into his back uses the other hand to grip his hair.

His face slams into the floor. Something digs into his lower lip, maybe a sharp stone, maybe one of his teeth. Again. He feels the cartilage of his nose crunch and blood begin to pour out. Once more. This time, the hand in his hair holds him still, rubbing his face into the floor and scraping his forehead on the stones.

Another kick to the side. The hand pinning him down pushes him harder into the floor. He stops struggling. Maybe the attackers will leave if he stops fighting. Playing possum isn’t exactly honorable, but he doesn’t see much other choice. He tries his best to even out his painful and ragged breathing, trying not to choke on the blood in his nose.

A few more kicks are dealt, this time to his hip and thigh for good measure. And then nothing. The grip on his arms relaxes, then retreats entirely. He has to fight his instinct to suck in the breath that had been pushed out of him. He keeps his breathing shallow, and his body still.

Footsteps emerge from behind and beside him. Now that their business is done, there’s no need to tread lightly anymore. He doesn’t lift his head for fear of being noticed, but he does see his attackers’ boots as they walk past his discarded lantern. The boots worn by Gloucester service. There’s no mistaking it.

The footsteps continue down the curved hall, disappearing from sight, and eventually from earshot. He keeps still a moment longer, just to be sure, before he rises to his unsteady feet. He lifts a hand to his nose and mouth out of habit, only to find his fingers stained red. The Millennium Festival may be soon, but soon doesn’t matter anymore. Lorenz needs to run _now_.

He leaves his lantern on the floor, choosing to move through the halls in darkness to lower his chances of being seen. No matter how large the estate is, he’s lived here his whole life and he’s confident he can get through without his eyes. He takes a moment to stop and listen, needing to be sure that he’s as alone as he feels, before he begins skirting through the blackened halls as quickly and quietly as he knows how.

He briefly slips into his room to pack a small satchel of essentials. Some gold, a canteen, an additional lantern, and a spare knife. In a moment of sentimentality, he brings along a single Gloucester rose from the vase on his desk. Next, he makes his way into the main drawing room. He takes a painful breath to steady himself before using the hilt of one dagger to shatter the glass case containing Thyrsus. He may not know how to use it, but he does know he can’t let it fall into Imperial hands.

Mindful of the noise, he takes the quickest route he knows to get to the stables, no longer bothering to take light steps. He sprints through the main doors and keeps close to the edge of the manor until he sees the wooden roof of the stables along the side. It’s only now that he lights his spare lantern using one of the torches kept lit in the stables.

He slowly steps to the stall for his personal horse. He presses a kiss to her snout and she huffs in return. It only takes a moment to saddle her up and secure Thyrsus to her before they tear out from the stables and down the hill the manor sits on.

He knows he can’t risk stopping until he’s safe in Derdriu.

**Author's Note:**

> so im doing tarot card based prompts. ill put them all in order later. heres lorenz getting beaten up. maybe ill write a part 2 at some point? who knows.
> 
> based heavily on art by [@MichelleDixArt](https://twitter.com/MichelleDixArt) (specifically [this](https://twitter.com/MichelleDixArt/status/1179573439537041409) and [this](https://twitter.com/MichelleDixArt/status/1195037817468051456). their lorenz keeps me going and they get all my love.


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